House Among Chaotic Kingdoms

Votes for this Turn:

A1 - Patrol - 11

A2 - Race - 2

A3 - Woods - 20

A4 - Market - 0

A5 - Hills - 2

A6 - Judge - 7

A7 - Crabs - 2

A8 - School - 19

S1 - Wikipedia - 30

S2 - Steam - 24

S3 - Paradox - 9

S4 - World - 0

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Rolls for this Turn:

Personal: Wikipedia

Thanks to Kallistratos of Aphidnae, Mace Tyrell is now the statesman and general he believes himself to be.

Nothing incredible in terms of political or marshal capabilities, but he will begin to remember his past life as a Greek general, statesman, and diplomat.

As a result, Mace is now skilled enough in Diplomacy and Warfare to somewhat back up his claims of competence, or even to keep up in the war councils that rank will demand he’s invited to in the future.

World: Fallout Wiki

Thanks to Hangdog Warrior, everyone in the North now has a slightly easier time bonding with and training Canids (and Pokemon of relative dog shape).

While a fairly minor boost, this should encourage more people to bond with and form a close trainer bond with the various Poochyena and Mightyena of the Wolfswood.

It also just makes dogs both more attractive as pets/companions and more instinctively comprehensible in their behaviors to Northerners.

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Story:

Omek returned to Heartsgrove with exactly the sort of request you ought to have expected from the Wall, which was to say that it was practical, unglamorous, and impossible to dismiss once heard.

Castle Black did not ask for a silver plate, fine cloth, or any of the prettier things lesser lords sometimes liked to send north so they could feel charitable while being useless.

What they wanted instead was the sort of finished ironwork and hard-used tools that took real time from a skilled smith, even when the raw iron itself was already close at hand.

They had blacksmiths of their own, of course, but those men were worked half to death already keeping up with daily breakage, repairs, and the endless, slow decay of a place that had been too large for its manpower for generations.

So their request was for the things that chewed through expert hours: nails, spikes, hinges, iron straps, brackets, adzes, chisels, augers, drawknives, replacement heads for axes, and the rest of the dull, necessary work that kept gates hanging, towers standing, workshops functioning, and wooden defenses from becoming expensive kindling.

That much was straightforward enough.

The more uncomfortable part came after, once Omek began speaking of your father.

He had spent most of his years on the Wall as a ranger, but had only fairly recently been shifted over into the stewards.

That alone sat oddly with you, because you had always thought of him as the sort of man better suited to ranging than to ledgers, stores, and repair work.

Then came the worse part, which was that men at the Wall apparently thought the Old Bear might be preparing him for higher office in time, perhaps even with an eye toward making him Lord Commander one day.

That sat badly in your gut.

Not because you hated the Watch, you were far too northern for that.

The Wall was the Wall, and whatever else a man might say of it, it stood between the North and things best left untested.

But if your father became Lord Commander, then he would no longer be some distant ranger half vanished into snow and silence.

He would be close.

Worse, he would be close in exactly the wrong way, because as the nearest lord to Castle Black, you would be the first man he reached out to whenever he needed supplies, labor, iron, timber, or any other favor the Wall could ask of Long Lake.

And the thought of helping the father who had abandoned you sat badly enough that you could scarcely look at it straight.

As if that were not enough, Omek then produced Unhalig.

Your father had only promised to return the blade on your sixteenth nameday, and yet here it was now a little early, wrapped well and sent back without ceremony.

Apparently, he had decided that close enough was close enough, and that he had too little excuse to keep it now that he was helping strengthen Castle Black as a steward instead of carrying it beyond the Wall as a ranger.

It was hard to know what to make of that.

On the one hand, Unhalig was yours by right and should have been back with you regardless.

On the other hand, the whole gesture felt exactly like the sort of thing your father would do, giving over the blade without giving over any clearer word than that, as if handing back an heirloom early ought to stand in for the rest of what had gone unsaid all these years.

Still, whatever else came attached to it, it was good to have the sword back.

Valyrian steel was different, and not in some dreamy singer’s sense either, but in the plain, practical ways that mattered to the hand.

The balance was not what you were used to.

The weight sat differently.

The blade answered differently to motion, and all the easy habits built by training swords and ordinary steel suddenly felt just a little wrong.

So you began putting time into it with Jon and Ser Wylis, learning how Unhalig wanted to move, how lightly it bit through the air, and how much more careful you would need to be before it became anything like natural in your grip.

That part helped.

Training always helped.

Steel at least obeyed clear rules, which was more than could be said for fathers.

Even so, the sword dragged him behind it like a chain.

So to get your mind off your father, and off the ugly little thought of Lord Commander whatever-he-was becoming more real than it had any right to be, you and Jon went back into the Wolfswood.

This time it was not for a hunt exactly, though you hunted often enough while there, but for a proper circuit among the little hunting communities scattered through the Long Lake stretch of the forest.

It turned into several treks spread across a few weeks, with the two of you moving between hamlets, rough clearings, and small halls where local men and women made their lives from timber, bees, traps, herbs, fish, hides, and all the other small hard things a good wood gave if asked correctly.

Those weeks took on their own rhythm quickly.

You would arrive with Jon, the wolves, and enough supplies to look proper without looking foolish, be taken in by whatever local household was best suited to host a lord, eat what they offered, hear what mattered to them, and then go walking the edges of their lives.

Smokehouses, bee skeps, herb patches, little fenced gardens, rough sheds for tools, racks for drying skins, piles of split wood, and children who stared at Ghost and Jinx as if trying to decide whether wolves were more splendid or more dangerous up close.

And because your reputation had now grown legs of its own, every place had something it wanted blessed before you moved on.

A garden here, a row of cabbage there.

Bee Skeps in one hamlet, an herb patch in another.

One old woman even insisted on having you lay a hand on the lintel of her storage shed because, as she put it, mold was a crop too if a body let it grow where it pleased.

You were still not entirely sure whether any of it did a damned thing.

That uncertainty had become less comfortable lately, not more.

Before, the whole business might have been laughed away as flattering superstition with a little local color attached.

Now, with the dreams, with Jon sharing them, and with Berenice having given the old fear a name close enough to warg that the difference no longer felt safe, you could not quite laugh as easily.

Jon still found the whole performance funny in his own dry way, mostly because somebody always treated you like a visiting saint of root vegetables by the second day in any given hamlet.

But even he had stopped dismissing it outright.

That silence between the two of you was perhaps the strangest part.

Neither of you believed in easy miracles.

Neither of you could entirely stop wondering either.

As you moved through the forest communities, keeping one ear open for the sorts of problems a lord was actually meant to solve, a pattern emerged.

The roads, such as they were, were in good shape by woodland standards.

Nobody complained much of muddy tracks or fallen trees or the ordinary difficulties that came with living among too many roots and too much damp.

What they did complain about were the bridges.

Late summer, they said over and over, was just about the perfect time to mend or replace them.

If left alone much longer, the coming cold would make repairs miserable, and once winter had its way with the timber, spring would finish the job.

The swollen streams and rapids would take a good number of the older bridges clean off or crack them badly enough that they might as well have.

Then hauling would suffer, trapping lines would suffer, timber movement would suffer, and every little crossing that tied one patch of woodland life to the next would become a nuisance at best and a danger at worst.

That much was easy enough to understand once pointed out.

The local people had two requests, and both made sense.

Either you sent out work parties soon enough to replace the bridges before the weather turned, or you paid the woodland folk themselves to do the work while the season still favored them.

In the end, you chose a mix of both.

That seemed the sensible middle course.

Use as much local labor as possible, because nobody knew the streams, the old crossings, or the habits of the wood better than the people who lived among them, but supplement that with outside hands where needed, especially from nearby farming districts that could spare men in organized work parties for short stretches at a time.

That way, the bridges were repaired by people who understood the ground, but not so slowly that understanding became an excuse for drift.

Toward the end of your time in the Wolfswood, you even oversaw the rebuilding of one of the oldest and most damaged bridges yourself.

It took two days.

The old timbers were half-rotten and had been waiting too long already, which made the work uglier than anyone would have liked.

Still, men cut, hauled, set, pegged, cursed, checked, and argued in exactly the way such labor always drew out of them, and by the end the new bridge stood where the old one had sulked, firmer and higher and built with enough sense that even the locals seemed satisfied.

That mattered more than your own opinion would have.

By then, the work parties had found their shape as well.

The local men knew the streams.

The farmers brought labor and muscle.

The whole business had settled into something workable, and you were assured often enough that the rest could continue without requiring you or one of your factors breathing down every neck involved.

The men understood the task.

More importantly, they had learned one another well enough to keep doing it.

Overall, those weeks in the woods felt successful.

You had gotten out of your own head, which was worth more than you liked to admit.

You had seen more of your people, not merely as names in tallies or households on a steward’s report, but as real communities with real concerns and a clear sense of what mattered before winter narrowed their choices.

You had also left behind something useful, which counted for a good deal.

A lord could hear problems all day long and still accomplish nothing if he rode away with nothing set in motion behind him.

This time at least, you had not done that.

By the time you returned to Heartsgrove, with Unhalig at your side and the smell of the woods still hanging faintly in your cloak, the shape of Long Lake felt more complete than it had before.

Not finished, because two great pieces of it still remained outside your experience as lord.

You had not yet gone properly into Heart of the Gods, and you had not yet ridden out into the Lonely Hills where the cattle folk lived, and so much of Clan Hund’s country began.

But you were getting there.

Piece by piece, road by road, bridge by bridge, blessing by blessing, the province was turning from inheritance into something closer to knowledge.

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Skills:

Combat:

(10) Westerosi CQC - 85/200 (+15) (Talented In North)

(7) Westerosi Swordsmanship - 55/100 (+5)

(10) Northern Archery - 160/200 (+15) (Skilled)

(8) Northern Equestrianism - 70/100 (+10) (Knack)

(11) Heavy Armour - 75/300 (+30) (Prodigious)

Diplomacy:

(10) Interpersonal Communication - 45/200 (+15) (Skilled)

(5) Public Speaking - 10/100 (+15) (Skilled) ←

(12) Management - 180/400 (+40) (Prodigious)

(6) Stewardship - 30/100 (+15) (Knack)

(6) Northern Law - 10/100 (+15) (Knack) ←

(5) Westerosi Law - 100/100 (+15) (Knack)

Language:

(9) Common Speaking - 15/100 (+5) (Knack)

(10) Old Tongue Speaking - 95/200 (+30) (Knack)

(7) Valyrian Speaking - 46/100 (+3) (Knack)

(6) Common Reading - 95/100 (+0)

(4) Westerosi Runes - 60/100 (+5)

(6) Valyrian Reading - 30/100 (+0)

Scholarly: (Knack in North)

(9) Math(s) - 15/100 (+20) ←

(10) Accounts - 190/200 (+40) (Prodigious)

(10) Northern History - 40/200 (+10) (Knack)

(7) Westerosi History - 10/100 (+5)

(8) Northern Peoples - 30/100 (+5)

(5) Westerosi Peoples - 89/100 (+5)

Leisure: (Knack in North)

(9) Northern Hunting - 65/100 (+10)

(6) Fishing - 75/100 (+25)

(5) Swimming - 75/100 (+15)

(5) Seacraft - 20/100 (+25) ←

(5) Climbing - 50/100 (+10) (Skilled In North)

(4) Acting (Lying Convincingly) - 30/100 (+5)

(11) Herbology - 170/300 (+30) (Prodigious)

(2) Warging - 40/100 (+20) (Gifted)

War:

(8) Strategy - 75/100 (+25) (Prodigious)

(2) Castrametation - 10/100 (+0)

(2) Poliorcetics - 10/100 (+0)

(2) Fleetcraft - 85/100 (+25)

(1) Battlewise (coup d’œil) - 10/100 (+0)

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Earning: 6

Spending: 0

Banked: 21

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Rolls for Next Turn:

T6 = Personal Power/Skill

L2 = Moderately Inconvenient

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Voting:

Main Actions:

A1 - Patrol the Kingsroad from one end to the other with Jon and Sir Wylis.

Reputation: Small Boost with everyone in Long Lake Province.

A2 - Host a boat race from Heartsgrove to Heart of the Gods and back.

Reputation: Moderate boost with everyone who lives on Long Lake itself.

A3 - Visit Heart of the Gods market and buy local wares publicly.

Reputation: Moderate boost with everyone at Heart of the Gods.

A4 - Visit the Cattle Preserves in the Lonely Hills, hearing local concerns.

Reputation: Large Boost with the few people of the Western-Lonely Hills.

A5 - Announce and Hold a formal Day of Dispute Resolution/Judgement at Heartsgrove.

Reputation: Small Boost with everyone in Long Lake Province, Moderate Loss with Lady Heelis.

A6 - Go Mud-Crabbing at HartShore with Clan Hund.

Reputation: Moderate boost with everyone at HartShore and Cinaed.

A7 - Visit the Academy in Heart of the Gods and question them on what the province needs.

Reputation: Moderate boost with Scholarly Types, Small boost with everyone in HotG.

Personal Rolls Sources:

S1 - Wikipedia (On Cooldown 1/2)

S2 - Steam Games

S3 - Paradox Wiki's (D30)

S4 - World Rolls List (D12)

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Information:

1 - Long Lake Province Map

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Write-In/Questions:

1 - Where should we send Omek next, and what should he do there?

Do not feel limited to the examples!

This is the primary method of reader intervention in the story, so if you have a plan of action you want implemented, then put it here!!

Want us to start a new industry/expand an existing one? Then:

(6R) Go to Wintertown and find a Master Beekeeper to boost the LLP Honey Industry.

Want us to make connections to other Northern Characters? Then:

(12R) Go to the Neck to see if House Reed knows someone able to teach Warging to Jon and us.

Want us to explore our Magic more? Then:

(0R) Stay in Heartsgrove and help Wulfric and Jon figure out their magic using Northern History as a Guide.

Or

(0R) Stay in LLP and try to determine for sure if Wulfric’s Plant Blessings are real or not.

Examples:

(6R) Go to Wintertown and find a Master Beekeeper to boost the LLP Honey Industry.

(12R) Go to the Neck to see if House Reed knows someone able to teach Warging to Jon and us.

(0R) Stay in Heartsgrove to help Wulfric & Jon figure out their magic from Northern History.

(0R) Stay in LLP and try to determine for sure if Wulfric’s Plant Blessings are real or not.